


if the sky comes falling down, for you (there's nothing in this world i wouldn't do)

by skywalking-across-the-galaxy (BadWolfGirl01)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, Clone Wars, Declarations Of Love, Episode: s05e16 The Lawless, F/M, First Kiss, Fix-It, Lightsaber Battles, Love Confessions, Satine Kryze Lives, Slight Canon Divergence, hi yes i'm obitine trash what's new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/skywalking-across-the-galaxy
Summary: He’s immersed enough in the sameness of it all--reading the neat lines of text Cody’s typed up, adding his own observations in where necessary, signing off at the bottom with a flourish--that the too-cheerful chirp of his commlink going off startles him, pulls him out of the near-meditation routine with a snap. He sets his stylus down on the desk, taps the commlink with one finger, answers with a short, “Kenobi here,” expecting either a perfunctory warning from Cody about more incoming reports or a summons to a Council meeting.He’s half-right.“Master Kenobi, your presence is requested in the briefing room,” and the crackling voice is unmistakably a clone--a summons from Master Yoda, then, but not a Council meeting. A new mission, perhaps? It’s an unusual time of day to be receiving one, but since the 212th’s leave is officially up in the morning, not unthinkable.“Please tell Master Yoda I will be there momentarily,” he says, fumbling to shut off his datapad and running his fingers thoughtfully through his beard.[or: The Lawless, but Obi-Wan's not alone.]





	if the sky comes falling down, for you (there's nothing in this world i wouldn't do)

**Author's Note:**

> hi there! this is just your run-of-the-mill rewrite of The Lawless, where Obi-Wan's smarter and acts more like the Negotiator and figures out a loophole to bring some friends. i wrote this in like, 3 hours, while sobbing my way through the episodes, so idk how good it is, but... please leave a comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> title from "Hey Brother" by Avicii

It’s late evening on Coruscant on the last day of a rare week of leave for Obi-Wan Kenobi and his battalion. Usually, he’d be taking advantage of the reprieve to seek out old friends among the Jedi, Knights and Masters (and a few younglings) he only has opportunities to see during these weeks of downtime, which are few and far between this long into the Clone War; today, however, the Force has been… strange, heavy and  _ foreboding, _ almost, preventing Obi-Wan from finding any enjoyment in the peace and quiet.

Even within the confines of the Temple, where the Force is usually the Lightest and calmest one can find in the galaxy (especially these days, with the chaos and Dark of war raging fiercer than ever), he’s been unable to simply  _ be, _ to relax into the familiarity of meditation. Feeling oddly bereft by the loss of the Light humming against his skin, he’s settled for the tedious mindlessness of mission reports as a poor substitute for the Force’s peace.

He’s immersed enough in the sameness of it all--reading the neat lines of text Cody’s typed up, adding his own observations in where necessary, signing off at the bottom with a flourish--that the too-cheerful chirp of his commlink going off startles him, pulls him out of the near-meditation routine with a snap. He sets his stylus down on the desk, taps the commlink with one finger, answers with a short, “Kenobi here,” expecting either a perfunctory warning from Cody about more incoming reports or a summons to a Council meeting.

He’s half-right.

_ “Master Kenobi, your presence is requested in the briefing room,” _ and the crackling voice is unmistakably a clone--a summons from Master Yoda, then, but not a Council meeting. A new mission, perhaps? It’s an unusual time of day to be receiving one, but since the 212th’s leave is officially up in the morning, not unthinkable.

“Please tell Master Yoda I will be there momentarily,” he says, fumbling to shut off his datapad and running his fingers thoughtfully through his beard.

_ “Acknowledged, sir.” _ The frequency cuts off with a burst of static, and Obi-Wan sighs, pushes himself to his feet.

As they say, no rest for the weary.

 

The door to the briefing room slides open with a scrape of durasteel-on-durasteel, and Obi-Wan steps inside the darkened room, notes the presence of Master Yoda and Ki-Adi-Mundi--and no one else--by the holotable. If this were a mission brief, he thinks, there would be other Councillors present--Mace Windu and Plo Koon, at the least. “You summoned me, Masters?”

Master Mundi steps over to the controls for the holotable, wordlessly presses a button, and a wavering image of Satine (and he quashes the urge to think of her as  _ his) _ comes into view--and even though the transmission’s quality is poor, likely a result of a weak signal, he can  _ tell _ she’s without her ceremonial headdress and lilies, though her hair is pulled back into a neat bun and she’s dressed as impeccably as always. He can’t help stepping up closer to the edge of the holotable, as though he could just--reach out, touch her (she looks exhausted, even through the blue holo-glow, and his fingers itch to smooth away the worry lines on her forehead), eyes laser-focusing on her face, on the tiniest expressions he’d learned to read like a holonovel so long ago. The years may have irrevocably changed him, but his dear Satine (not his) is still the spirited, fiery, strong-willed woman he--loved.

_ “This is a message for Obi-Wan Kenobi,” _ she says, and her voice is steady but his heart isn’t, because they have each other’s personal comm frequencies. If this was a mere social call, she wouldn’t have reached out to the Jedi Council.

He is, quite suddenly, afraid.

Her next words confirm all his worst fears, when he thinks of her.  _ “I’ve lost Mandalore.” _ So simple, those three words, but a punch to the gut.  _ “My people have been massacred, and Almec is now the Prime Minister. I can’t explain everything now,” _ and she’s rushing her words out, urgent, low on time,  _ “but Almec has the support of the crime families.” _ She stops, for a moment, looks away from her handheld comm and glances back over his shoulder (and he will not admit that his blood runs cold). When she looks back, her voice is softer, quietly pleading, and he already knows what she’s going to say.  _ “Obi-Wan, I need your help.” _

The transmission flickers out just as three armored Mandalorians land around her and start towards her kneeling form, and he presses his fist more firmly against his mouth, tries to will away the nerves. She will be fine--if they’d wanted her  _ dead, _ they would’ve shot her, instead of allowing her to get a message out. 

Everything screams of a trap, but he already knows he’s going to go anyway.  _ Haar’chak. _

“Your thoughts on this, Master Kenobi,” Yoda asks, and Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, trying to clear his mind. It only partially works, but then again--this is  _ Satine _ at risk, here, and his thoughts have ever been clouded when it comes to her.

“Satine has been at odds with the Death Watch for years,” he starts, slowly, considering; he paces forward a few steps, tries to remain unemotional and detached. “And, according to a report from Padawan Tano, they’re no longer in league with the Separatists. If there was a takeover on Mandalore--” there was, Satine would not have commed in this way otherwise, “--it was most likely an independent act, caused by the Death Watch alone.”

He knows what that means. “Without involvement from the Separatists, this is an internal affair for the Mandalorians,” Master Mundi says. “I’m afraid we cannot help.”

And he  _ knows, _ but--this is  _ Satine, _ and alright, perhaps he struggles to be rational around her, but surely they won’t order him to leave her to the mercy of a terrorist group that’s been trying to assassinate her or depose her or both since the civil war? “We cannot just hand Mandalore over to these crime families and let Satine become a  _ martyr.” _

“I’m afraid her decision to keep Mandalore neutral makes this situation… difficult.” An understatement, perhaps, but it  _ is _ true, and Obi-Wan  _ knows _ that, and for the moment he hardly  _ cares. _

“Understand your feelings, I do, Obi-Wan,” Master Yoda says, and Obi-Wan wants to laugh, bitterly. The old Jedi Master knows a great deal, but Obi-Wan highly doubts he has ever failed the Code enough to feel  _ love. _ “But to take action, support from the Republic Senate, we will need.”

Like that would work. “You know what the Senate will decide,” he says, turning to Master Mundi, as though maybe he could just--convince them. “They will not send aid to a neutral system.” Not with the countless Republic systems in desperate need of aid.

“At this time,” Yoda says, tiredly, “nothing more can we do.”

Obi-Wan  _ knows _ that. The Jedi have no jurisdiction on Mandalore--or, rather, the GAR has no jurisdiction there, in a neutral system not under attack from the Separatists. But the Jedi Order, as a sovereign entity frequently called upon to be mediators between disputes and protect legitimate rulers during times of turbulence… There are, he thinks, enough loopholes that he could get away with this. “Satine has called upon the Jedi--specifically myself--for aid in the past, to protect her and assist her with reclaiming her rightful position as Duchess,” he says, slowly, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “The Jedi cannot act as Generals of the Grand Army of the Republic, but we  _ can _ step in as peacekeepers.” Anakin, Ahsoka, and the 501st are back on Coruscant as of yesterday. He will need his best friend and their Padawan for this. It’s  _ definitely _ a trap.

Cody would scold him for going without the battalion.  _ Will _ scold him, because Obi-Wan is going to Mandalore, one way or another. He made a promise to his  _ (not his) _ Duchess, once upon a time, and he will keep that.

“This is a risk,” Master Mundi says, thoughtful, “but it could work. Who will you take?”

“Anakin and Ahsoka. The 501st are scheduled for a week of leave, and Cody can command the 212th in my absence, if necessary.” He turns to Yoda, because as always, the final say in the matter is given to the Grand Master of the Order.

This time, however, Obi-Wan will follow his own course of action, regardless of what Yoda says.

“Reinforcements, we cannot send, if in trouble, you are,” the small green Master says, and Obi-Wan nods.

“I understand. Hopefully, I can manage to keep  _ out _ of trouble this time,” although with Anakin along, that seems to be doubtful. “I will do my best to keep you updated on the situation as it progresses. If worst comes to worst, I will simply… escort the Duchess to Coruscant, where she can plead her case before the Senate.” Getting Republic aid will likely mean the loss of Mandalore’s neutrality, but in the end that is a small price to pay, Obi-Wan thinks, for Mandalore’s freedom.

“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi,” Ki-Adi-Mundi says, and Obi-Wan bows to him and to Yoda, the two other Masters bow back, and he turns on his heel and leaves the briefing room behind.

He has some comms to make.

 

Obi-Wan finds Cody in the 212th’s barracks, half-out of his armor, sharing a flask of what’s likely the clones’ homemade moonshine with Rex. “General,” Cody says, inclining his head, though he doesn’t stand. “What do you need?”

Cody is the only one who truly understands what is at stake, here. Obi-Wan has, in the past, regretted the time he and Cody both accidentally got drunk and he ended up rambling enough about Satine that his Commander demanded the whole story, but this is not one of those times. “I’m heading to Mandalore,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing a hand tiredly across his face and sighing. “With Anakin and Ahsoka. It’s… not entirely  _ sanctioned, _ and it’s not GAR business--I’m exploiting a loophole, here. Satine has lost Mandalore to the Death Watch, and she sent a comm to the Council asking for my help, specifically. I know the battalion’s leave expires in the morning, so I wanted to warn you that you may be sent into a battle without me.”

Cody gives him a  _ look, _ inscrutable as always, and then says, “Are you really trying to tell me the three of you are going to walk straight into a trap without backup?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, because it sounds so much more  _ foolish _ when Cody puts it that way, but this is  _ necessary. _ “I  _ am _ going, Cody. You cannot stop me.”

“I’m not going to, sir.” Cody reaches for his armor, tucking the flask in one of the drawers on his bunk. “But I  _ am _ coming with you.”

“So am I,” Rex growls, reaching for his helmet. “If my Jedi are going, I’m gonna be there to watch their backs.”

Obi-Wan has to smile, a little, although this is incredibly  _ not helpful, _ because he’s honestly not at all surprised. “You can’t,” he says, shaking his head. “The GAR has no jurisdiction--Mandalore is a neutral system and the Death Watch are no longer aligned with the Separatists.”

“General,” Cody says, wry, “all due respect, but unless you bring the battalions along, Rex and I are just bodyguards. Bodyguards with painted armor and fancy ranks, sure, but bodyguards all the same.” Cody gives him a  _ look, _ the one that means  _ I’m right and you know it, so ne’johaa, _ and Obi-Wan sighs.

“Alright then, if you’re coming, then we must hurry. I’m meeting Anakin and Ahsoka in the hangar in five.” The Council will sigh, and not approve, but Cody has a point. And honestly, Obi-Wan is starting to not care what the Council does and doesn’t approve of, these days.

Considering that he’s  _ on _ the Council, that’s saying rather a lot.

Cody nods, finishes snapping on his armor pieces, and he and Rex both jam their helmets on and stand, and Obi-Wan turns on his heel and heads out, focused, already trying to plan. He cannot fail Satine.

Not this time.

 

“So we’re going to save your girlfriend,” Anakin says, casually, as he sends the shuttle into hyperspace. “And we’re certainly walking into a trap, and there’s absolutely no backup waiting for us. Also we’re going to be fighting a group of elite warriors that are super skilled at killing Jedi. Have I missed anything?”

“Just the fact that Satine is  _ not my girlfriend,” _ Obi-Wan says with a sigh, rolling his eyes. Anakin, honestly. Just because his best friend, his brother, flaunts the Code doesn’t mean  _ everyone else _ does too. “Am I not allowed to have  _ friends?” _

“Master,” Anakin says, and great, that was a mistake, “you already admitted to me you have feelings for her. So you might as well quit pretending.”

“I never should’ve told you that,” Obi-Wan mutters under his breath. At least  _ Cody _ doesn’t tease about this.

“Whatever, Master. So do we have a plan for rescuing the woman who is definitely not your girlfriend?”

Obi-Wan will not dignify that comment with a response, now or ever. “I have a plan for how  _ I _ can get in--the rest of you will have to just sneak in, track me by my comm signal, act however you feel best. I won’t have a landing permit, so you’ll have to hide while I lure the guard into the shuttle and knock him out, so I can steal his armor. Satine is likely being held in the prison, so I should have no trouble getting in to rescue her--it’ll be getting  _ out _ that’s the problem.”

Hopefully the Death Watch won’t question him until it’s too late for them, but Obi-Wan isn’t counting on it. “Do  _ not _ reveal yourselves until absolutely necessary. This is a trap, and Satine is no doubt the bait--I need to know who is  _ really _ behind this.”

“So you’re going to spring the trap,” Ahsoka says, and she really is quite clever. “And you want us to be there to save your ass?”

“Basically, yes.” She’s put it in cruder terms than he would, but the gist is the same.

“All due respect, sir,” Cody says, “but why not just grab the Duchess and get the hells out?”

“Because, Cody,” Obi-Wan says, turning to look his Commander in the eye, “this is  _ personal. _ Whoever set this trap  _ knows _ me. This is  _ revenge. _ And I need to know who.”

 

Obi-Wan sets the shuttle down on the main entrance to Sundari’s biodome as carefully as he can, grabs the repurposed helmet he’d found in the ship’s closet and jams it on his head, looks down at himself carefully. He at least doesn’t resemble a Jedi at  _ all, _ although the bounty hunter-esque clothing isn’t exactly the most comfortable. At least it fits, and keeps his identity hopefully anonymous.

He doesn’t want to spring the trap until the right moment, after all.

The ship’s ramp lowers, and Obi-Wan steps down it, nods at the red and black armored Mandalorian who approaches him. “Do you have a landing permit?” the Mandalorian asks, and Obi-Wan pats himself down, as though searching.

“I must’ve left it in the ship,” he says, apologetic. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll get it for you.”

The soldier nods, and Obi-Wan climbs back up the ramp, heads for the cockpit--and Cody steps out of a compartment and stuns the guard before he can react. It’s a matter of moments to strip off the armor and put it on over the skintight underlayer Obi-Wan had put on beneath the bounty hunter getup; he hides his lightsaber in a pouch on the belt and grabs the helmet, engages his commlink’s signal, and starts down the ramp, putting the helmet on his head as he steps out onto the landing platform. There are a few workers unloading shipments from cargo ships, but Obi-Wan has faith that Anakin and Ahsoka will be able to make it inside easily enough. 

Someone helped Satine escape long enough to send that transmission. Hopefully he will have allies in this place. But he can’t count on that. So.

He takes the guard’s speeder, is waved in through the gate into the biodome itself, and he pilots the speeder to the prison block in the center of a large, open square, parks it. The guards let him through without even questioning him, and he steps inside, starts searching through the levels, trying to at least  _ appear _ like he’s simply making a routine patrol.

He’s not Mandalorian, but he’s one of the Jedi with the most experience with them and their customs. He’d  _ lived _ among them for a year, back when he was a padawan--he can at least imitate the way they walk.

He finally finds Satine’s cell after a few minutes of searching, blips his commlink open twice in quick succession, a signal. Twice for reaching the Duchess, three times for when the trap is sprung. If he can. They’re still supposed to be keeping an eye on him.

She has her back to the door, is sitting crosslegged on the floor with her hair down, in a dark blue dress, and something tightens in his chest at how slumped her shoulders are. She’s curled in on herself like the whole weight of the world is on her shoulders--or like she’s lost all her hope.  _ Kriff _ all this. He  _ hates _ seeing her that way.

He presses the switch to open her cell, glances both ways before stepping into the entrance--she doesn’t even move, just says, sharp but weary, “Here to do more of your master’s bidding?”

He swallows hard, pulls his helmet off and says, lightly (as though there’s not a lump hot and heavy in his throat), “I do my own bidding.”

Her head flies up and she gasps out,  _ “Obi-Wan,” _ jerks to her feet and before he can really  _ register _ what’s going on she’s throwing her arms around him, tucking her head against his chest, curling her fingers around the edge of one of the armor plates, and he wraps his free arm around her, allowing himself just a second to breathe in her  _ nearness, _ to take comfort from it.

And then he has to push her back by one shoulder, gentle, gentle, and she looks so  _ relieved _ (although he thinks she’s disappointed that he’s pushing her away--but they have to  _ go) _ that it makes it hard to swallow around whatever’s lodged in his throat. “Are you alone?” she asks, and he has to stamp down an urge to trace his fingers over her cheek.  _ Kriff, _ he’s so glad she’s safe. And alive.

“Not exactly,” he says, lowering his voice and glancing around. “Anakin, Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex are here somewhere, ready to pull us out when things inevitably go south.”

_ “That’s _ your escape plan?” she asks, wry, raising an eyebrow, but her eyes are sparkling and so,  _ so _ warm, and he can’t help smiling down at her.

“Of course, my dear,” he says, should look around to make sure they’re alone but he can’t quite tear his gaze away from her kriffing blue eyes. (He could kiss her, right now, except--he can’t do that. Although it’s a bit hard to remember why when she’s looking at him like he’s--he doesn’t know.)

“We should hurry, then,” she says, takes his hand, and he nods, jams the helmet back onto his head and tugs her down the corridor to the turbolift, presses the button.

There’s another Mandalorian in armor inside, and Obi-Wan hesitates for an eyeblink, then grabs Satine’s arm and roughly shoves her into the small space, hopes silently she’ll forgive him. The door hisses closed and the lift starts to descend, and then the Mando speaks. “There’s no record of a prisoner transfer.”

“The orders came from upstairs.” His voice really is too distinctive, even through a helmet. Luckily, the Mando seems to accept that--

“What’s the authorization code?”

Right. Authorization code. “Uh,” he mutters,  _ so eloquent, Kenobi, _ and then he shrugs and puts a hand on the Mando’s shoulder and layers his voice with the Force and says,  **_“Sleep.”_ **

The soldier collapses, limp, and Obi-Wan leaves him there on the floor of the lift as the door hisses open again, discards his helmet and hurries to the speeder, Satine right with him. Mandos are notoriously strong-willed, and he doubts the Force-command will hold for long, and then whoever’s really in charge here will know there’s a Jedi on the loose, with the Duchess. And since this trap was set specifically for  _ him… _

He’s barely hopped onto a speeder bike, Satine climbing on behind him, when the lift opens again and another guard runs out, blaster in his hands. “Hey you! Stop!”

Not likely. Obi-Wan guns the accelerator, sends the speeder bike flying for the gate. He just has to get to the shuttle. Then he can--can what? Can hold out until Anakin and the others get back?

Yes. Or, more likely, their shuttle will be wrecked and he and Satine will be taken prisoner by whoever’s trying to capture him. Which is, if he’s honest, the whole  _ point _ of this. So he’ll play along, he’ll follow the steps laid out for him. It’s too easy. “Anakin, come in,” he says, into his comm, fast. “I’m trying to get back to the  _ Twilight, _ but I expect our escape route to be cut off. This is  _ too easy. _ I need you, Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex to find a way to hide in the palace--I’m guessing, here, but that’s probably where a confrontation will take place. Satine and I will likely be prisoners.”  _ Kriff, _ he just wants to get out of here, but he has to  _ know. _

_ “Copy that, Master,” _ Anakin says, and Obi-Wan swallows, glances back at Satine, feels her squeeze her arms tighter around his ribs in reassurance. Her eyes are shining with  _ trust, _ and he swallows hard.

He doesn’t deserve her. He never has.

It’s far too easy to get back to the landing platform, and he brings the speeder bike to an abrupt stop as Death Watch guards spill out through the gate after him, blasters firing--he tugs Satine off the bike, takes aim with the blaster built into the armor, fires back, one two three four, downs one two three four guards. “Get into the ship!”

She goes. He follows. Fires, one two three four, can’t focus on using the Force enough to make sure they all hit their marks, but he’s very accurate anyway. The ship’s ramp closes and he sprints into the cockpit, brings the engines online, lifts off the platform--shit, this might actually  _ work, _ he’s gonna have to apologize to Anakin for leaving them to find their own escape route offworld--

Something  _ slams _ into the shuttle and sparks fly, and he swears in several different languages, slams a fist into the instrument panel. Something explodes in the back and he shakes his head, says, “We better get out of here,” because the ship is spinning out of control and it’s going to crash and he can’t do a  _ thing  _ about it. So he grabs Satine’s hand and runs to the ramp, presses the switch to drop it, and then he’s staggering, catching himself on one of the durasteel struts--everything’s spinning and there’s so much force and he can’t hang on--and his hand  _ slips _ and then he’s  _ flying, _ and there’s no time to engage the jetpack, she’s ripped from his hands and he’s crashing into the ground and all the air  _ slams _ from his lungs in a  _ whoosh, _ and his vision goes dark for a second and he can’t breathe, can’t think, everything is  _ pain, _ and he blinks hard and tilts his head, has to find Satine, has to find her, to get to her--

There’s debris covering her. He stretches out a hand, shaky, so shaky,  _ haar’chak, _ damn it, kriff, can’t quite get himself up onto his elbows, too nauseous and everything’s spinning and if the platform would just hold  _ still _ this would all be so much easier, but the Force responds as it always does and there’s a rush of warmth and then the debris shifts and lifts off her. She’s barely moving and  _ fear _ thrills cold like ice through his veins, gets him up onto his elbows, saber in his hand, but he can’t quite think and the smoke is so thick it  _ burns _ and there are shadowy shapes emerging from the darkness, Mandalorians in armor and something red and black and--

and-- 

“No, it  _ can’t _ be,” he chokes out, can’t breathe, hells, Force, those sickly Sith-gold eyes burn into his own and he’s on his feet, swaying (can’t breathe, head hurts, spots in his vision, ribs are screaming), ‘saber on but he doesn’t remember igniting it, can’t look away from those eyes, glowing, burning, the same ones he’s seen in his nightmares for the last thirteen years, the eyes of the monster who killed his Master.

Maul.

Something constricts his throat, tight,  _ tight, _ he can’t breathe, he’s choking, thinks Maul doesn’t even need to be using the Force because he can’t breathe anyway, and of course it’s Maul who else could it be he knew this screamed  _ revenge, _ and then those Force-damned eyes are so  _ close _ and boring into his own and his saber falls from nerveless fingers and “We meet again, Kenobi. Welcome to my world,” and the voice is just the same, no, no, no, he can’t, this can’t be happening.

Something  _ flings _ him into the guards and his head cracks against  _ beskar _ and he sees stars flashing across his vision, and “Take them to the palace,” and someone’s grabbing his arms and dragging him and  _ kriff _ that hurts, and he wants Satine, needs her, where is she, tries to crane his head to find her but everything  _ hurts _ and something slams into his shoulders and he goes limp.

_ Anakin, _ he thinks, reaches through the training bond,  _ Anakin, it’s Maul. He’s taken us prisoner, we’re being taken to the palace… blew up the  _ Twilight,  _ I’m sorry. _

_ Master! _ Anakin’s mental voice is  _ terrified, _ Obi-Wan’s not sure why.  _ Just hang on, Master, we’ll fix this. _

And Obi-Wan wants to believe that, so badly it  _ aches, _ but--

Maul.

 

Maul lazes on the throne, Savage at his right hand, Satine kneeling at his left, and there are a handful of Death Watch guards, two by Maul and two holding Obi-Wan’s arms. One of them has his saber. Anakin is somewhere, hopefully, this isn’t going to go well otherwise.

He doesn’t know what Maul wants with Satine, but it can’t be good.

If he fights now (he could do it, throw them away with the Force and call his saber), will Maul just kill Satine? Likely. Where are Anakin and Ahsoka and the others, he needs them, please, he doesn’t trust the light in Maul’s eyes.  _ Please. _

Maul will kill her and it will be his fault and she will be  _ dead _ and he doesn’t want to lose her, not his Satine, please, Maul took Qui-Gon from him, he can’t take Satine too.

Maul starts to stand, starts to lift his hand, the Force starts to gather around him.

And a ventilation grate in the wall above the throne comes flying out, slams into Maul’s head, and then Ahsoka (thank the  _ Force _ they’re here they’ve come he’s not alone) lands with her sabers ignited, and Anakin’s following, and the Death Watch are starting to fire and Maul’s stunned and Savage has a double-bladed saber and Obi-Wan  _ moves, _ the Force throws the guards holding him away and he calls his saber to his fingers and ignites it and then he runs, runs for her, his Satine, gets her up and gets an arm around her and his saber out in front, and Anakin and Ahsoka are engaging Savage and the Death Watch are stumbling to their feet and suddenly there’s blasterfire and Rex and Cody are rolling out, and two guards fall, and then Maul is roaring and flinging the grate off his head and igniting the darksaber and Obi-Wan needs to  _ focus. _

_ “Kenobi!” _

Maul is  _ angry,  _ shit, they need to get  _ out of here, _ Obi-Wan tightens his hold on Satine (and she clings to him, so tight, trusting him completely and it’s so simple, right now, in this moment--he loves her, his Satine), deflects a blaster bolt, backs away. “We need to  _ go,” _ he says, sharp, and Anakin nods and he’s fighting Savage alone now, Ahsoka’s protecting Cody and Rex and they’re killing the Death Watch, that’s good, but they’ll only have a short window of time. And Maul is stalking towards him and Obi-Wan doesn’t want to keep backing away but he doesn’t  _ want _ this fight, not now, he just wants to get his Satine somewhere safe where he can hold on tight and not let go, but--

“Obi,” she says, very soft, “I’ll be fine, you must fight.”

He knows. He knows, he knows, but he can’t--he forces his arm away from her, steps in front of her, and she backs out of his way and then Maul is lunging, the darksaber’s blade slashing down, and for a moment he’s twenty-five years old and a padawan again and Qui-Gon is dying on the floor and he was  _ too slow _ and he can’t do this, can’t, can’t--but somehow he  _ moves, _ catches the blade on his saber, and he’s twisting out of the way, and Maul is turning back, that rage and ferocity and those  _ damned _ Sith-gold eyes but Obi-Wan is  _ equal _ to the Darkness, he can  _ hold his own. _ Maul is good but Obi-Wan is  _ not a padawan anymore _ and he is fighting for the one he  _ loves _ and he  _ will not fail. _

Maul throws a wave of Force at him and Obi-Wan counters, skids back but stays on his feet, ducks as the darksaber scythes through the air where his head was just a moment ago and _twists,_ nearly gets a hit on Maul’s ribs but the Sith is faster, stronger, better, catches his blue blade and forces it aside. Launches another attack and Obi-Wan’s back on the defensive again, and they _need to go,_ **_now,_** so he pushes faster, stronger, harder, he just has to get Maul off-balance so they can escape, and--

He miscalculates and there’s fire searing across his saber arm, where the  _ beskar’gam _ doesn’t protect, and he swears under his breath and tries to focus, to collect his thoughts (has to fight to keep from looking for Satine, she’s okay, she’s safe, she’s  _ not dead, _ Maul didn’t kill her), he drives Maul back and then there’s the tramp of booted feet and  _ no, no, no, _ but--

“Kenobi! Skywalker! This way, hurry!”

A woman’s voice, one he doesn’t recognize. Obi-Wan risks a glance back over his shoulder, sees a small group of Mandalorians in blue armor, and they’re beckoning to him, so he takes a deep breath and pulls on the Force and  _ pushes, _ and Maul wasn’t expecting it, Maul goes  _ flying _ and Obi-Wan finds Satine’s close to him, so he grabs her hand and tugs her back, and Ahsoka and Anakin hold Savage’s attention and blasters fire and the massive Zabrak  _ howls _ and he’s falling, falling, a  _ thunk _ that echoes up through Obi-Wan’s boots, and then Rex and Cody are coming too. The woman in the lead throws a grenade at Maul and pushes them on, and Obi-Wan tightens his fingers around Satine’s hand (she’s here, not dead, not dead, not dead), and there’s a speeder waiting outside, and they all pile in. Some of the Mandalorians have jetpacks on, and one of them sends the speeder racing towards another one of the entrances to Sundari, not the one he came in through. 

There are more Death Watch members coming at them, and the woman and a few of her fellow soldiers take off on their jetpacks, start fighting, and Anakin and Ahsoka have their sabers out to defend, and Rex and Cody are shooting, and Obi-Wan--Obi-Wan  _ should _ be helping but instead he keeps his arm tight, so tight around Satine, holds her close to his chest, where she’s safe. Where if they want to shoot her, they’ll have to shoot him first.

He thinks they all understand that.

He will have to fight again, to get them out, probably. He doesn’t really want to let go of Satine long enough for that. Maul  _ had her, _ he would’ve killed her, and it would have been  _ Obi-Wan’s fault. _

_ Hells, _ he can’t--he doesn’t--he shakes his head, tightens his hold on her, eyes the Death Watch suspiciously until they’re gone. The speeder comes to a halt in one of the biodome’s gates and he jumps out, keeps Satine close to him, and then the gate opens and there’s a  _ warzone _ outside.

“Wow,” the woman says, “Maul must really want you dead.”

Obi-Wan swallows, says, “You have no idea.”

“Get to the edge of the platform,” she orders him. “All of you. A ship will be coming in.”

“Bo,” Satine says, suddenly, soft, and the woman--Bo, apparently--shakes her head.

“Go!”

They go.

Obi-Wan pulls his saber out, deflects blaster bolts, although with Anakin and Ahsoka helping and Cody and Rex returning fire he almost doesn’t need to. He does it anyway. It helps everything feel--safer, having the familiar humming of the kyber crystal alive in his palm, the buzzing of the blue blade arcing through the air.

There’s a ship, coming down, a decent size, though for six of them plus a pilot it’ll be a bit tight. Still. The Mandalorians are still fighting, no one’s paying much attention to the group of Jedi and one deposed Duchess and two clones as they stumble up the ramp and into the ship, and then the ramp closes and Anakin and Ahsoka are running to the cockpit. And Obi-Wan really  _ should _ go with them, he should, but--

_ Maul _ was here.  _ Maul. _

And Maul had his  _ Satine, _ had her and nearly killed her, and she’s here now, he  _ has her, _ she’s safe, they’re safe, and he--he shakes his head, pulls her into his arms and buries his face in her hair, thinks he’s crying, isn’t sure. “Satine,” and it’s just a breath, because he can’t get the air to say it any louder, and he wants to say something else but there’s nothing, no words, just her name.  _ “Satine.” _

“We’ll give you two some privacy, General,” Cody says, quiet, and Obi-Wan makes a mental note to thank his Commander later.

“Obi,” Satine says, equally soft, and his arm  _ hurts _ where Maul scored it with the darksaber’s edge but he tightens his hold on her anyway, clings to her like she’s a lifeline. “Obi, look at me.”

He does. Of course he does (and the ship lurches into hyperspace and he stumbles, catches his balance again, tugs her close against his chest). She’s staring up at him with those blue eyes, so intense and warm and bright, and  _ hells _ he loves her, no matter that he isn’t  _ supposed to, _ she was going to die and now she hasn’t and he  _ has her, _ she’s safe, so he lifts a hand to her cheek like he’d wanted to do when he first got her holo, traces her cheekbone with the back of his fingers. “He was going to kill you,” he whispers, faint, and her eyes flutter closed for a moment before she opens them again, breathes in, and reaches up with one of her own small, pale hands, cups his cheek, his jaw, soothes her thumb under his eye and catches the tears he hadn’t even realized were falling. “I thought--” He doesn’t know.

“I’m here now,” she murmurs, and he knows, but he needs--it’s not  _ enough, _ he needs more, he needs to  _ know, _ without a doubt, that she’s here, that she’s  _ safe. _

“Satine,” he chokes out, again, and then he’s tilting her face up, and he leans down and kisses her, hard and desperate, and she’s melting into him and sliding her arms around his neck. Here. Safe. He pulls back, rests his forehead against hers, breathes her name again, like a prayer.  _ “Satine. _ I--” he loves her, can’t he just  _ tell her _ that, she was almost  _ dead _ and everything’s a mess and  _ Maul, _ those too-gold eyes are still bloody and burning in the back of his mind, so he lets the words out, because he does, he always has, thinks he always will, “--I love you. Satine.”

_ “Obi,” _ and she’s so close, so warm in his arms, and he thinks she might be crying too, “I love you too.” And he’d  _ known _ that, but it’s--hearing it again is--good. “Come on, you  _ di’kut,” _ and alright, if she’s calling him an idiot that means things are good, “let’s look at that arm.”

Yes, he should probably let her do that. But that would mean letting  _ go, _ and once upon a time Obi-Wan had fancied himself good at that, at letting go, but he thinks… he  _ knows _ he was never really as good at releasing things as he had wished he was, and perhaps… perhaps he was wrong, to wish that.

So he’s not letting go.

Not this time.

**Author's Note:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _haar'chak:_ damn it
> 
>  _beskar:_ Mandalorian iron, forms their distinctive armor
> 
>  _beskar'gam:_ armor
> 
>  _di'kut:_ idiot


End file.
